


Supernatural Rewrite Extra Moments

by itsangelpie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert, Romance, Slow Burn, Teen Dean Winchester, Teen Sam Winchester, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester, teen reader, young reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:28:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27067909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsangelpie/pseuds/itsangelpie
Summary: Exclusive childhood, teenage, and adult moments of (Y/n), Sam, and Dean as they face the dangerous world of hunting together!| Extension of "The Miracle" (A Supernatural Rewrite) |
Relationships: Dean Winchester & You, Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/You, Sam Winchester & You, Sam Winchester/Reader, Sam Winchester/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Beautiful (15-Years-Old)

**Author's Note:**

> Summary: (Y/n) sketches a picture of the Impala and Dean thinks it's almost as beautiful as her.
> 
> Pairing(s): Teen!Dean Winchester/Teen!Reader
> 
> Warning(s): Fluff, Soft!Dean

Dean didn’t know why it took him 15 years to realize how pretty you looked when you were concentrating on something.

Your eyebrows would pinch together, while your teeth would busy themselves by digging into your bottom lip. It was almost as if nothing else existed but you and whatever you were concentrated on. For example, right now, it was just you, the pencil and paper in your hand, and whatever you kept glancing at through the window.

He couldn’t be certain, but he was pretty sure you were looking at John’s car.

He had left her parked in front of the motel before taking Sam to the diner connected to the motel. You had declined John’s offer to join, taking pleasure in the thought of relaxing back in the motel room. John side-eyed Dean when he decided to stay behind with you because it was rare for that boy to pass up a meal. Nonetheless, he let it go, assuming Dean was just tired from the long ride.

After 20 minutes, Sam and John were still stuffing themselves at the diner, you were still hunched over your paper, and Dean still hadn’t found the courage to ask what you were doing. Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t want to wipe that cute look off of your face, but the words were stuck in his throat.

“If you take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Dean’s eyes widened when he realized you caught him staring, but him being Dean and all, he found a way to play it off.

“I could tell you the same thing.”

His heart squeezed in his chest when you bite back a laugh at his reply, a small smile making its way onto your face. He watches as you scribble a few more lines on the paper before standing and walking over to him. Dropping the paper in his lap, you sit down on the bed next to him, thigh pressed against his.

Dean’s mouth hung open to say something, but he couldn’t find the words. On the paper in front of him was a quick sketch of the Impala. In your eyes, it was by no means perfect––just a way to calm your mind and pass the time. But for Dean, it was a masterpiece. You’d gotten everything just right in his book; everything down to the glisten of her perfect coat.

“(Y/n), this is…” he trailed off, still not locating any words he felt were worthy of how beautiful he thought this was. You bite your lip and look away from him shyly, somewhat surprised by his reaction.

“It’s really nothing, De,” you tell him softly. “It’s not even that good.”

Before you can snatch it away from him, Dean pulls it out of your reach, a puzzled look on his face. “What are you talking about? This is amazing! I-It’s better than amazing, it’s…” Dean trailed off, turning back to look you right in the eye.

“It’s beautiful.” He was whispering now, scared that if he spoke any louder he would startle himself. You look back at him with innocent eyes, stuck on the word beautiful. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought he was talking about you, not the picture.

While the room was completely silent, your heartbeat was deafening as you and Dean explored one another’s face up close.

“How much?” Dean asks, breaking the silence, and you tilt your head.

“How much for the drawing?” You almost laughed at how ridiculous he sounded but stopped short when his face didn’t change.

Shaking your head, you answer, “Dean, no. Why would you pay for something I could just give you? It’s not even worth anything,” you add, heart soaring at the way he was looking at you. “And do you even have any money?”

A warm blush befalls Dean’s cheeks as he playfully nudges your shoulder.

“Of course I have money,” he whines, purposefully not mentioning that the only money in his possession at the moment were the few quarters in his pocket. You snicker at his tone of voice, before shaking your head again.

“Sure you do. But seriously, you’re not paying me money for that.”

Dean thinks for a moment, another idea quickly popping into his head.

“How about ice cream?” He asks. “I think I saw a place a few blocks away. I could ask my dad for a couple of bucks and we could share a cup. But–” he stops to stand up, giving you a look too serious for any manner as silly as this, “only if you let me keep this.”

Dean’s heart was racing as you contemplated the idea, but he immediately goes back to breathing regularly when a sassy smile blossoms across your face.

“I thought you said you had money?”

Neither of you could hold back the laughter that bubbled up at your statement. You playfully rolled your eyes as you left the bed and grabbed his hand.

“Come on, Mister,” you tease, missing how Dean carefully slid the small drawing in his back pocket as you walked to the door together.

As the two of you exited the motel room Dean promised that he would never let go of that picture or _you_.


	2. Laughs (16-Years-Old)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is jealous of your new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing(s): Teen!Dean/Teen!Reader
> 
> Warning(s): Jealous!Dean

This is not at all how Dean had thought the week would go. Whenever John dropped you, him, and Sammy off at your respective temporary schools, you had a set of unspoken rules established between the three of you. Do your best to keep the attention off of you, don’t tell anyone why you’re really in town, and don’t make any new friends.

But here you were––trampling all over rule number three and not having a care in the world about it.

You’d explained to Dean that his name was Marcus and that he seemed really nice. However, Dean didn’t see what was so great about him. In Dean’s opinion, Marcus was average looking at best and you didn’t need to touch his arm every time he managed to make you laugh.

And, God, the laughs.

To anyone else, it would look as if you and Marcus were a young couple, naive and infatuated with each other. When the two of you weren’t talking, you were laughing, and Dean couldn’t stand it. That laugh was reserved for Dean and Dean only. So why were you giving it away for free to Marcus?

Dean couldn’t have been more relieved that night when John told you all his work on this case was done and you would soon be on the road, moving to the next town.

No more Marcus, no more laughing with Marcus, and no chance that Marcus could steal your heart before Dean even got the chance to try.


	3. Broken Promise (17-years-old)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean breaks his promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing(s): Teen!Dean/Teen!Reader
> 
> Warning(s): ANGST, FLUFF, negative feelings about self, soft!Dean
> 
> A/n: There are some intrusive and negative thoughts highlighted in this, so if that triggers you please beware!

When Dean walked into the room and saw you curled up on the bed, he immediately knew something was wrong. Even though your back was facing him, the light sniffles he heard confirmed his suspicion that you were crying.

At first, he wanted to ask who he had to punch or possibly kill, but the soft whimper that you failed to contain stopped him.

“(Y/n)?”

Your body stiffened until your brain registered that it was Dean and not John. While you thought of the man as a father, he never has been the best at dealing with and talking about one’s emotions. Mary was always the one that took care of that.

You doubt your effort to wipe away any evidence that you had just been crying resulted in anything, your puffy face and still watery eyes giving it all away. Sitting up from your fetal position, you don’t look at Dean, too embarrassed that he’d caught you. It is silent for a moment before you hear Dean moving towards the bed.

He moves slowly, taking the extra time to make sure he didn’t say anything that would upset you further. Before crawling on top of the bed next to you, he removes the boots he wore on his feet, remembering how shoes in the bed were one of your biggest pet peeves.

“What’s goin’ on, sweetheart?”

Dean’s question has your throat closing up with emotion, so instead of speaking you just shrug, hoping he didn’t catch the few tears that dropped down into your lap. You always hated that a simple question like that, from him, could affect you so greatly.

When you still don’t answer, Dean slides closer to you and opens his arms.

Dean’s long legs are spread out in a v-shape across the bed, your entire body then falling into his chest. Your head finds it’s way into the crook of his neck as you hang onto the arm that was wrapped around your front. He swoons at the way your hands were holding his arm for dear life, quickly snaking the other around the back of your body to pull you closer to him.

For the next few minutes, the two of you just sit like that.

More tears had started escaping, this time falling onto Dean’s arm that was settled on your front side, but he didn’t care. He only hugged you tighter, heart breaking over and over every time you sniffled.

While you were able to force yourself to stop crying after 5 minutes, the horrible feelings were still there. They’d snuck up on you out of nowhere, filling your head with false truths and unwanted insecurities.

“Dean, am I ugly?”

The hand that was soothingly stroking your back paused, Dean trying to make sure he heard the question correctly. Keeping his arms around you, he eases you out of his chest to look into your eyes.

“What?”

You bite your lip before asking again, this time your voice breaking on the last word.

“Am I ugly?” 

You’d been looking in the mirror when the word first popped into your head. It wasn’t the first time, but this is one of the times when it hit a little harder. Personal insecurities and inner demons took turns at slowly and methodically working to crush your soul, and right now, they were succeeding.

Dean didn’t mean to take offense to the question, but he couldn’t help it. How could you think that? How could the most beautiful girl in the world think that she was ugly?

When your bottom lip started quivering, Dean had realized he still hadn’t answered the question, which was probably making you feel even worse.

“God, no, (Y/n),” he rushes out, almost tearing up himself. One of his hands moves to stroke your cheek and wipe the tears away.

In that moment with you looking up at him, eyes filled with emotion, something overcame Dean. He didn’t know if it was the urge to comfort you further or the fact that he felt he had to prove to you that he was serious, but he couldn’t stop himself from leaning in.

After you both realize that your lips were now pressed together, you can’t help but kiss back. You shouldn’t have, because you would never be able to get over him now, but the way your lips molded together made it too hard to pull away. With your eyes closed, you didn’t see the single tear that fell down Dean’s face. The fact that he was kissing you both elated him and broke his heart.

It seemed like you’d been kissing for hours, but the reality was that it had only lasted for a few seconds. As you pulled back, both of you reeled in the feelings of bliss and regret.

In your mind, Dean had only kissed you to make you feel better. He harbored no romantic feelings for you and it was only because he was your best friend that he decided to do it.

In Dean’s mind, he broke his promise to himself. He let his feelings get the best of him, and now he was going to have to pay for it.


	4. Pure (23-years-old, 19-years-old)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/n gets hurt on a hunt with Sam, and Dean is upset about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing(s): Dean Winchester/Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader 
> 
> Warning(s): Injured!Reader, Sad!Dean, Sad!Sam, ANGST, fluff
> 
> A/n: This went longer than I wanted it to, but I just couldn’t stop lol. It’s more angsty than I intended, but I think you'll still like it!

Worst-case scenarios were flooding over inside Dean’s head, and he couldn’t get his hands to stop shaking as he ran them over his face. He knew it was a stupid idea to let you and Sam go alone. If he’d just called Bobby to take care of it, everything would be okay. Instead, he let your pouty-lip get the best of him.

Dean didn’t have much time to kick himself for it though, a frantic knock on the door startling him off of the bed.

Swinging the door open, he’s met with the frightening sight of you hanging limp in Sam’s arms.

“What the hell, Sam?!”

The younger Winchester’s voice shook as he explained what happened. “I checked for a concussion before we left, I don’t think she has one. I mean,” Sam struggled, “it came out of nowhere Dean. It tossed her across the room just before I was able to shoot it. After that, I just grabbed her a high-tailed it out of there”

Anger swells in Dean’s chest as he listens to his brother.

“Why the hell weren’t you watching her back?” Dean hisses out as he lays you on the bed and rushes to the bathroom to see if you had any medical supplies. The gash above your eyebrow would likely need stitches and the pained gasps still pouring out of your mouth told him there was something else that needed tending to.

“Why don’t we have any supplies?” Dean shouts out, kicking a hole in the drywall next to him. He would probably regret that later, but right now he didn’t care. He marches back out of the bathroom with a hardened look on his face.

“I-I,” Sam stumbled over his words, not sure what to say. All he could focus on was how you got hurt under his watch. It was his fault that you were in pain, and it was killing him.

“No, Dean,” Your strained voice stops him. “It’s not his fault.”

Dean immediately softens, seeing in Sam’s eyes that he was just as worried, if not more. He huffs out a breath as he looks over his brother.

“I’m sorry. She’s right. It’s not your fault.”

He wanted to walk over and give Sam a reassuring hug, but he needed to play doctor before he could do any of that.

“You gotta run to the corner store down the street and find anything you can,” Dean instructs his brother. “Gauze, alcohol, anything. Not just for her, but for you too.”

It was apparent Sam was a little banged up as well, and Dean couldn’t have him hurt either.

Sam nods his head and sends you a longing look before he rushes out of the room, leaving you and Dean alone. With Sam now out of the room, Dean’s emotions finally got the best of them. Tears well in his eyes as he walks over to you. He sits down on the bed carefully, not wanting to disturb any other injuries you had.

“Damn it, (Y/n),” he groans out, eyeing the drying blood that painted the side of your face. You hiss slightly as he tilts your head to get a better look at the cut. Anger reels through him again, and he can’t help the words that begin to pour out of his mouth. 

“What was I thinking?” He asks himself, standing up and backing away from you. “I knew something was wrong, I should’ve driven down there myself!”

As he was rambling on, he didn’t notice you quietly calling out his name. He continued to ramble, now beginning to pace back and forth in the middle of the room.

“Dean!’ You call out louder, and he freezes. You hold out your hand, motioning for him to sit back down. He sighs deeply, slowly moving over to you and retaking his seat. Gingerly sitting up, your hand raises up and strokes him on the cheek to calm him down.

“Breath, De,” you console. “I’ll be alright.”

He nods, sorrowful, jade eyes meeting yours. His hands move up to grasp the sides of your face, careful of the stinging cut. You both bask in the silence of the room, your hands now stroking Dean’s back in hope of getting his breathing back to normal.

When he felt your hands on his back, it took everything in him not to kiss you right then and there. You were so close, all he had to do was tilt his head and his lips would be on yours.

But he couldn’t.

You meant everything to him and he made a promise to himself long ago that he wouldn’t taint you with his love. You were too pure for him and this world, and he would just have to accept that.


	5. Sleepy Sunsets (22-Years-Old, 18-Years-Old)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam reads (Y/n) to sleep on Bobby's porch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely loved writing this one! Side note: the word in italics are NOT MINE! They’re actually from the book 1984 by George Orwell. (One of my favorite books of all time.) Enjoy!
> 
> Pairing(s): Reader x Teen!Sam (18)
> 
> Warning(s): fluff, fluff, and more fluff, kind of a sad ending I guess

1997\. 

Old books and whiskey were two smells that probably shouldn’t have felt comforting to you, but anything was possible at Bobby Singer’s house.

That was where John had dropped you and the brothers off after telling you that he was going to go solo for this hunt. When you asked why he told you to not worry about it and enjoy some downtime at Bobby’s.

So now here you were enjoying the pretty South Dakota sunset on the porch swing Bobby had fixed up for you. He knew you liked to sit outside during the summer, basking in the heat from the safety of the potch. So when John called and told him that he was dropping you off soon, making sure the porch swing hung correctly was the first thing that Bobby did.

Dean was already asleep, exhausted from a long day of learning how to work on car engines with Bobby, who also had nodded off in his chair in the living room, an empty whiskey glass next to him.

The creaking of a screen door had your head turning to see who was coming to join you outside, and you smiled once you realized it was Sam. He returned the smile and moved to sit down next to you. As he sat down, the worn book that you hadn’t noticed he had until now caught your eye. The numbers 1984 on the front had you grinning giddily.

“I found this lying around in the living room earlier and I remember you saying something about how good it was,” he informs you, quickly flipping through the book. “Thought I might try it out.”

“I think you would like it,” you nod. “It’s something different from all of the lore John makes us read.”

Sam laughs at you, silently agreeing that a change-up in his reading would be nice.

The next few moments were filled with a comfortable silence as you lightly swung the swing back and forth. As Sam opens up the book, an idea pops into your head.

“Can you read to me?”

Sam turns his head to look at you, holding back a gasp at how stunning you looked in the light of the sunset.

“I would love to,” he answers sincerely. Both of you change positions to get comfortable, you laying down on the swing, head in Sam’s lap. Sam hoped he hid his blush well as you looked up and him, ready to listen to him read.

Opening the book to the first page, he begins the story, and you can’t help but close your eyes and focus on how soothing his voice sounded.

_“It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. Winston Smith, his chin nuzzled into his breast in an effort to escape the vile wind, slipped quickly through the glass door of Victory Mansions, though not quickly enough to prevent a swirl of gritty dust from entering along with him.”_

You couldn’t help how your lips curved up into a small smile, like hearing Sam recite the familiar opening of the book.

_“The hallway smelt of boiled cabbage, and old rag mats. At one end of it a coloured poster, too large for indoor display, had been tacked to the well. It depicted simply an enormous face, more than a metre wide: the face of a man of about forty-five, with a heavy black moustache and ruggedly handsome features.”_

After a few more paragraphs went by, Sam finally found the courage to look down at your face. Your face was relaxed and peaceful which told him you had dozed off as he was reading. He paused, putting the book to the side and staring at you for a moment. His hand slowly moved up and he lightly stroked your soft cheek, smiling to himself when you subconsciously nuzzled deeper into him.

But the smile quickly fell as he thought back to the acceptance letter that sat at the bottom of his bag.

How was he supposed to tell you that he was leaving? Actually, the better question was how was he going to leave you?


	6. Does She Make You Happy (22-Years-Old)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Y/n) finds out about Cassie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was over 1,000 words, but I couldn’t leave you guys hanging where it originally ended. It’s ANGSTY, so get ready! x
> 
> Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x Reader
> 
> Warning(s): ANGST, ANGST, MORE ANGST

For the past few days, you’d been residing in the comforts of some motel in Athen’s Ohio.

A couple of mysterious deaths at one of the libraries on Ohio University’s campus and some disappearances of some of the faculty had John ordering you and Dean to go and check it out while he took care of another case a few states away.

Deciding to divide and conquer, you took on the faculty disappearances while Dean looked into the deaths. Both of you would go your separate ways in the morning to research on your own, before returning back to your shared motel room and exchanging whatever information you’d found.

Well, that’s how it went at first.

Now, instead of being greeted by Dean’s groggy yet cheeky smile in the morning, all you received was a note telling you that he’d already headed to the college campus and to call if you needed him. The afternoons were no better as he only returned for a quick nap and to drop off a quick run-down of what he’d found out through the day. You were only gifted with his presence for around an hour before he pressed a swift kiss into your forehead and raced out the door.

It didn’t take you long to get the hint that he was hiding something from you.

There was something different about him whenever he returned in the evening. His face is obviously flushed and he startled when you called him name. Usually, his phone would ring about 30 minutes after he returned, and he would always answer. He would be on for a while, a pretty smile almost never leaving his face as he talked quietly into whoever was on the other end.

You didn’t want to pry because you respected his privacy, but it was eating you up inside. That pretty smile only came up when he was talking to someone he was interested in. You’d seen him use it endlessly, his pearly whites and stunning eyes working relentlessly to charm any and everyone, including you. 

Today was no different as you were beginning to wrap up what you needed for your case. The salt was in the back of the car you’d rented, ready to be poured on the dug-up grave, ending the spirit’s rain of terror over the faculty members at Ohio University.

You were just settling into your assigned bed when Dean unlocked and entered the room, face as flush as ever.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greets, moving over to your bed and pressing a kiss into your cheek. Your false smile masked the nauseous feeling that bubbled up in your throat as you smelled what could be mistaken for perfume on his clothing.

“Hi,” you squeak out, keeping your eyes off of him in hopes that he wouldn’t see you attempting to hold back the few tears that had gathered in your eyes.

What was wrong with you? There had been plenty of other women, so what felt so different about this one?

Luckily, Dean was too distracted by taking his boots off to notice your gradually decreasing composure. “I’m gonna pop in the shower, and then we can talk about the case.”

All you could do was nod as he gathered a new set of clean clothes and made his way to the bathroom. Leaving you with a quick wink, the bathroom door shuts and you can finally let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

You swear to yourself when you feel a hot tear escape out of your eye, and quickly hurry to rub it and any others away.

_‘He’s not yours, (Y/n). And you’re not his.’_

He had every right to spend his time with whoever he wanted, and that was that.

Unfortunately, a few more tears had managed to make their way down your face, and before you could rid your face of any evidence of your constantly broken heart, a sound surprises you.

It was the phone in the hotel room, and you have to take a deep breath before answering.

“Hello?”

The feminine voice on the other end has another round of tears welling up in your eyes.

“Um, hi, this is Cassie. I’m sorry, do I have the wrong number? I’m looking for Dean Winchester.”

_Of course, she was._

“No, this is the right number! I’m…I’m just a friend,” you stutter, another tear rolling down your cheek. “He’s in the shower right now, but I can tell him to call you back once he’s out.”

There is a beat of silence over the phone as Cassie registers that you must be the infamous (Y/n). (On her first date with him, Dean wouldn’t shut up about you. While Cassie didn’t have the heart to tell him, Dean ended up realizing his mistake on the drive back to the motel. Before he left for their next date, he promised himself that it wouldn’t happen again.)

“Oh no, that’s fine. Can you just tell him that I had a great time tonight and that I can’t wait for Wednesday?”

_It was only Monday, and they’d already made plans for Wednesday._

Choking out an answer, you tell her that you would relay the message before quickly hanging up. It was somewhat abrupt and borderline rude, but you had to hang up before she heard the sob that threatened to leave your throat.

It was a good few minutes before Dean exited the bathroom, hair still shining and wet from the shower. You were laying down now, silently watching him as he sat down in the bed across from you. Before he could say anything about how your eyes were significantly more red than when he left for the bathroom, you interrupted him.

“Cassie called.”

A blanket of thick silence fell over the room as Dean’s eyes widened slightly.

He curses himself in his head because you weren’t supposed to find out about her yet. He wanted to tell you, but he didn’t know how. How was he supposed to tell the girl that he would forever be in love with that he was seeing someone else?

Before he could open his mouth to explain himself, you interrupt him again.

“Is she nice?”

_Not as nice as you._

Dean nods slowly, not being able to find his voice at the moment.

“Does she treat you well?”

_Not as well as you do._

Dean nods.

“Does she make you happy?”

_Not as happy as you make me._

A few seconds go by before Dean realizes he hadn’t nodded yet. Quickly making up for his fault, his head tilts up and down, and the smile that he receives from you doesn’t reach your teary eyes.

“Goodnight, De,” is all you say before flicking off the lamp next to you and turning over in the bed so that your back was facing his. Dean was left sitting in the dark with his mouth hanging open as you pressed deeper into your lumpy mattress and flat pillow. He didn’t know why he expected you to fight for him.

_‘She’s not yours, Dean. And you’re not hers.’_

Whether either of you realized it or not, both of you ended up crying yourselves to sleep that night.


	7. Brotherly Advice (16-Years-Old, 12-Years-Old)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam asks Dean for some advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is just a little short someone requested on Tumblr! It quick, but kind of hilarious. 
> 
> Pairing(s): Teen!Dean Winchester x Kid!Sam Winchester (Sam is 12, and it's platonic, of course.)
> 
> Warning(s): None

  * Dean knew that his little brother wasn’t always keen on discussing anything to do with romance.
  * Granted, he was only 12 years old and you all never stayed in one place long enough for him to develop a genuine crush on anyone.
  * That was until Sam asked his older brother for advice on how to impress a girl that he has a crush on.
  * (He waited until you were out on a supply run with John to ask, of course, since you were the girl he was talking about.)
  * Although Sam wouldn’t tell Dean who the mystery girl was, Dean was more than happy to gift him with his own personal tips and tricks. 
  * “Don’t change who you are for her. If she doesn’t like you for you, then that’s her problem.”
  * “Never lie about _**anything**._”
  * “Try and make her laugh.”
  * “Don’t be afraid of eye contact.”
  * “Don’t just look like you’re listening when she’s talking, actually listen to her.”
  * “The eyes never lie.”
  * “Always make sure both of you are comfortable.”
  * “Compliment her.”
  * “Be yourself.”
  * “That’s all you need to know for now. You’re only 12, you’ve still got time.”
  * Sam thanked his brother, taking a mental note of everything he told him so he could possibly use them on _you_ when he grew older. 
  * (The funny thing was that Dean didn’t even realize that he utilizes all of methods on you.) 
  * (What was even funnier is that they were working.)




End file.
